


He's Got a Theory About the Universe (It Exists in her Smile)

by midnightxgarden



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff, Pure Sap and Adoration basically, Set sometime during series 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:16:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5727682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightxgarden/pseuds/midnightxgarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor assumes their relationship has moved past outmaneuvering emotional plays (he might be wrong about that).</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Got a Theory About the Universe (It Exists in her Smile)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [antennapedia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/antennapedia)'s [Whouffaldi First Kiss challenge](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/whouffaldi-first-kiss) on tumblr.
> 
> Once again, thanks to [veradune](http://archiveofourown.org/users/veradune) for taking a look at this to make sure it wasn't a crazy mess.

Clara stands at the edge of his work space, fiddling with the last remnants of a clock radio he rebuilt last week, and two emotions play across her, and he feels like he’s mastered all things “Clara” since he knows now that’s not a malfunction.

 

“Your thoughts are loud,” he accuses when she’s been standing there for near a minute without speaking.

 

“We both know you’re rubbish at telepathy,” she fires back, but it’s quiet without its usual heat.

 

He nearly responds, _not with you,_ but then he realizes he would reveal just how much she’s wormed her way into his existence, and he’s not quite sure he’s ready for that. “Fair point, but your face is all, err, constipated with two emotions, so it doesn’t take much to guess.”

 

She laughs once, a short, melodic burst that never fails to make his hearts skip a beat. “Not the right word, but yeah, I guess.”

 

He looks up from the tectonic drill he’s been fiddling with, he’s trying to make it less earthquake-y and more pond ripple-ly. She’s changed from her teacher clothes into something softer, no dark tights and heels to reach a high shelf anymore, and she’s standing just at the edge of the work desk – eyes on his hands that still hold a plyers in one hand and the drill in the other. “What’s wrong?”

 

She exhales loudly, the edges of her body seem to tense and relax at his words. Although he long ago realized that she would never fit into a neat category, he always finds it fascinating when her body mimics her expressive face that always seems to be telling two competing stories.

 

“What are we doing?” She pauses and seems to consider her words before adding, “Together.”

 

He has about a dozen answers to her question, but he somehow doubts they are what she’s looking for. Humans tend to be a single-minded bunch, especially when it comes to interpersonal relationships, and although he would never place Clara on the same level as her species, even she cannot overcome all of its faults. “Everything, it seems.”

 

“Not everything,” she counters, taking a step and half toward him, and in her bare feet, he even manages to dwarf her while sitting, and with anyone else that would mean nothing, but he does sometimes wonder how she fits so much life into such a undersized frame – it’s entirely possible she is part TARDIS.

 

“That is true. Why just yesterday I managed to save an entire colony of sentient branches from being eradicated from the universe while you taught year nines the wonders of Shakespeare, which I am sure they thoroughly appreciated.”

 

_“Doctor.”_

 

She’s even closer now, her body heat invading his space and overwhelming his already cloudy mind with her presence and her small aggressions against his hearts that have turned their beat into a Morse code call of Clara, Clara, Clara. “Surely you know.”

 

She shakes her head just once.

 

“For you, my Clara, I would risk the universe for your smile. So please, don’t ask for something you cannot possibly receive.”

 

Her eyes flash in defiance. “Who says I couldn’t receive? Surely not an exiled Time Lord who’d –”

 

He turns her head up to his and gently grabs her wrist to pull her into his orbit, a role reversal if he’s ever seen one, and he lowers his lips to hers. Maybe a demonstration of what a monumentally bad idea this is will convince her.

 

As soon as his lips meet her own, he realizes his error. Because her lips turn up into a small smile before she pushes back, a hand curling around the back of his neck pulls him closer into her and her desired outcome since she stood broadcasting her emotions like a siren at the edge of his workspace.

 

It’s a soft joining, and she seems content to leave it at a soft press of lips and maybe just a bit of nipping and let him lead. It’s either one minute or ten later when she finally pulls her mouth back enough to rest her forehead against his. Her hands have worked their way onto his shoulders, and he’s holding her steady at her waist, and he wonders if she’d ever want to do that again.

 

“Mmhmm,” she purrs as she rubs her nose against his, eyes still shut to the world.

 

He stays silence for a long moment before murmuring back, “Humans aren’t a telepathic species.”

 

“True, but I can read you well enough.” She pulls back slightly, and his hand tighten for a fraction of a second at her waist, and she grins. “Like right now, you’re wishing to do that again.”

 

He tries to scoff but mainly comes out as a strangled sigh. “Preposterous.”

 

She nods solemnly, but he can see the mirth in her eyes, and he resists an urge to pull her close again. “Tell me, Doctor, why’s kissing better than hugging?” His eyebrows shoot up at the question. “Is it maybe because you can’t hide your face?”

 

She’s teasing, he knows, but it’s a point he can hardly dispute. “Seems logical.”

 

She giggles, tossing back her head and his hearts skip a beat, and he wonders if this was always where they were supposed to be.

 

“Well then Doctor, what do you say? Want to give it a go?”

 

He pulls her subtly closer in hopes of her shine rubbing off on him. “Give what a go?”

 

“You’re not a hugger, but want to test and see if you’re a kisser?”

 

Her face is so bright and eyes so big with emotions he’s not quite ready to sort yet, but he knows he’s right when he says he’d trade the universe for her smile, but maybe the price is less, maybe he really did get lucky this time round.

 

“Why, Clara Oswald, there’s no theory I’d like to test more.”

 


End file.
